


hollowoy (hey love)

by circus lights (dividedheart)



Series: i found love where it wasn't supposed to be [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Incest, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-17 01:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5848858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dividedheart/pseuds/circus%20lights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kei runs. Akiteru follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. gunner (there is no color here)

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, a follow-up for my "destruction of small ideas". There will (hopefully soon) be another chapter, maybe two more, I'm not sure how much I'll need. Thanks for reading! I'm surprised so many people wanted more.
> 
> The rating may also change, depending, as well as tags. This first chapter doesn't have any scenes worth a mature rating, and is pretty safe for work.
> 
> ###  [Tumblr](http://smallideas.tumblr.com/)

Akiteru wakes to a pounding headache the next morning.

His clothing sticks to his skin, and he finds that despite the breeze that's coming in through his open window, he's still too warm. Akiteru squirms and fidgets in bed until he eventually gives up on falling back asleep, instead opting to get up and shower. There's a pulse ringing behind his eyes, and even though he rubs and rubs he can't get rid of it.

There's something he should be feeling, but he can't seem to recall just what it is.

Like the cold water that jutters from the shower head as he turns the tap, his memory returns in fits and starts. His drinking, the cab ride home, the distinct feeling of humiliation, the rise and fall of a great joy that he cannot seem to completely remember.

Akiteru climbs under the icy water and shakes his head. He can recall the events of last night just fine. He just doesn't want to revisit those feelings of longing. He instead chooses to drown himself in the cold water, as if that will ease the stinging behind his eyelids.

There's something inside of him that screams at him when he thinks of Kei beneath him, remembers the feeling of his flesh, hot and slick. It's an uncanny feeling that marks the swoop and sway of his stomach, fingers brushing against his navel teasingly, cock perking up at the memories. 

He scratches his arm instead, digging his nails in with a biting fury, as if in place of an anger that Kei could never have directed toward him. Undeserving of the supposed love Akiteru had felt so intent on smothering him in.

Akiteru feels sick. His headache is getting worse.

He doesn't bother washing his hair, just scrubs down his body in the cold water, sneezing meekly when he steps out of the shower, the cool morning air warm in comparison. Is torturing himself with a cold shower enough? If it were, maybe he'd feel a little less nauseated, less sickened by things he doesn't want to recall.

He puts on clean clothes and makes his bed, taking a second to stare at the covers blankly, wondering if it wasn't just a dream. He rips them off after a second of contemplation, judging them dirty, whether or not it was all just another fantasy of his, desperate and rushed. He knows it happened. The sight and sounds of last night won't leave him that easily.

He cannot think straight. He wants to see Kei, wants to hold his brother and apologize, knows that if he remembers, then so does Kei. Akiteru blindly runs his hands through his damp hair, mussing it up further. He feels stuck in place, timeless, aching, so unable to chase down the sinking feeling in his stomach and hold it down.

A bang downstairs makes him jump, and he flies out of his room, pausing in the hallway to listen. There's the sound of the door being locked, shuffling of a jacket, sniffs, and the jingle of keys. Akiteru's heart stops in his chest, and he wonders if his parents are home. He wonders if he left something, evidence of his shame, some sort of smudge on the wall that would tell them everything.

He takes the stairs two at a time, and the second he comes into view of the person in the hallway, they freeze.

It's Kei, cheeks flushed from the cold, bags of groceries slung over his arms. He looks up with a sniff, glasses fogging over from the warmth inside the house. Akiteru expects a word of anger, some look of disgust, but Kei just blinks idly, pulling off his shoes and exchanging them for slippers. He holds his arms out, and Akiteru stares.

"Help me with these, won't you?" He asks, not even bothering to look Akiteru in the eye.

"Oh! Yeah, uh, of course!" He blurts, rushing to take the bags from Kei's tired arms. "Where... where did you go?" He asks, peeking inside one of the grocery bags. There's bread on top, obscuring Akiteru's view of the rest of the contents.

"To the store," Kei answers, quirking a brow, speaking like it's obvious. "We needed some stuff, and I don't know when mom and dad will be back."

"Oh. I... I could have gone, you know," Akiteru says, unsure.

"I wasn't about to wake you up," Kei says, hanging up his jacket with a sigh. "People with hangovers need as much rest as they can get, anyway," He says, half shrugging, picking up the rest of the bags. "And they probably need food, too," He adds, heading into the kitchen.

Akiteru watches his back retreat almost blankly, mind screeching to a halt. He'd expected fists, fury, heated words and unmasked disgust. He hadn't expected this, a normalcy that makes him feel almost dizzy.

Was he just ignoring it? Or was this his acceptance?

"Are you coming?" Kei calls from the kitchen, the clunk of glass and crinkle of plastic bags following his voice.

"Yeah!" Akiteru says, chest throbbing, turning the corner with a grin. "Geez, you're so responsible now. You make me feel like the younger brother sometimes, you know? It kind of worries me," He laughs, setting the bag down with the rest of them, pulling it open to peer at the contents.

"It worries me sometimes too," Kei mumbles half-heartedly, pulling out eggs and milk.

"Did you pay for this stuff with your own money, too?" Akiteru blinks stupidly, eyeing a jar of strawberry jam. "Hmm... I must say, you're more an adult than I am."

"Don't say that, brother," Kei scoffs. "That"s not much better than being a toddler."

"What?" Akiteru fakes hurt, propping his hand on his hip. "Are you implying I'm not even a little more responsible than a baby?"

"I guess that's just what you are to me," Kei shrugs, hiding a smile, opening the fridge and sliding the cold foods inside. "You could probably use a nanny. If someone were to breathe down your neck, maybe you'd become a bit more diligent."

"I'm hurt!" Akiteru roars, flinging his hands up. "Man, isn't this just another part of being an adult, though? Drinking with co-workers may as well be a part of the job description these days," he insists.

"I'm sure," Kei says, nose crinkling in disgust. "At least you don't smell like alcohol anymore."

"I do know how to shower." Akiteru bites, poking Kei in the ribs. "And I know how to cook, too. Should I? Let me guess... d'you want something sweet?" He asks, tilting his head.

"Why not," Kei shrugs again, sliding past Akiteru like a ghost. "Only if you clean up after, too, though."

Akiteru and he bicker a little more like that, the air insufferably normal. It should feel right, but it's not what he wants, even after the previous night. If this is his acceptance, is it enough? Akiteru cannot allow himself to think any further. If Kei does not hate him, then that is all that matters.

There is an off-beat sensation in the back of his mind that makes the throb in his head all the worse, but he ignores it the same way he ignores the feelings he knows he'll have to face eventually.

Akiteru cooks breakfast and he makes french toast, tells Kei to close his eyes when he swings around with the plate of it, setting it down with a bravado only he could manage. Kei looks disgusted, but he's handed syrup and a knife and fork and his expression melts into one of vacant pleasure upon actually tasting it. It's stereotypical American food, Akiteru notes, and Kei nods, like he knew all along.

They're half-way through cleaning up when their parents arrive home, looking brighter than ever. Akiteru tells his mother she's practically glowing, and she laughs and slaps his arm, asking how thing's had gone with his co-workers last night, and if he'd had enough time to do anything with Kei. They dissolve into meaningless chatter and Kei finishes up the dishes, slinking upstairs without another word.

Akiteru doesn't miss the sound of the door slamming upstairs.

 

 

He decides to stay another night, wishing his father farewell and good luck with his work overseas.

His mother makes curry for dinner. Akiteru washes vegetables and cuts them up with her, eyes watering painfully upon contact with the waves of onion juice that slick up his knife. Kei walks by and she unsuccessfully tries to coax him into joining them, but Kei just shrugs like he couldn't care less, mentioning a walk. Akiteru tells him they'll have dinner ready for him by the time he's home.

Dinner is ready long before Kei gets back, however.

His mother sets aside a plate for her youngest, fretting here and there, delaying their meal until it's too late to continue waiting. Akiteru calls him, naturally, receives no answer and worries, but eventually reassures his mother and forces them to settle down and eat. It's not like Kei to pass up a good meal, even if he's in one of his worse moods.

Akiteru wonders if it's his fault.

It's seven o'clock when his mother insists on calling the police. Akiteru actually laughs at that, forces a strained chuckle, even slaps his knee. It doesn't take much convincing that he'll go out and look for him until his mother calms down and sits down with a cup of tea, but her own anxiety is nothing in comparison to the throb of guilt inside Akiteru's chest. _What if he's running away because of me?_ He thinks, a thought laid to rest in the back of his mind, not touched, left alone, because Akiteru loves his brother, and his brother loves him.

Akiteru puts on his own shoes, his jacket, and takes a set of house keys, as well as the keys to his own apartment. He heads out with conviction, intent on finding Kei.

He looks. He goes to the nearby park, the one Kei used to love, peeks inside the dome in which children crawl and hide, and even sits on the swing set for a minute or two, looking around and just thinking. He discards the park, crosses it out in his mental map, and continues searching. There's another park, and no, Kei isn't there, either. There's a convenience store, and further, a real grocery store, and Kei isn't in either of those, missing from any and all immediate places that his big brother could think of.

It takes Akiteru an hour before he phones Kei's cellphone again, greeted with not two rings, not even one; instead, a monotone, robotic answering machine greets him, the default standard for their cell operator. Kei's phone is not even on.

Worry, Akiteru thinks, is not for those hung over. His head is pounding incessantly, and while he knows he deserves it for what he'd consumed last night, it makes the sensation no less unpleasant. He thinks hard and long and then looks up the bus and train schedules for the area nearby. He wonders which, out of his friends in Karasuno, would Kei take solace in.

Akiteru becomes less and less sure of how well he knows his brother the longer he looks for him.

He calls his mother and asks her, instead. He's given several names and phone numbers, things he scrawls on the back of a receipt he'd found in his pocket, pressed against the glass wall of a bus shelter. His hands are quickly turning numb from the cold air outside, night time temperature ever dropping. He fumbles with his phone and the numbers, calls Sugawara and then Daichi, both of who sound equally worried and give him another name: Yamaguchi.

Akiteru calls Yamaguchi, a boy he'd known to have dark brown hair, freckles, and a nervous air about him. There's three rings and Akiteru bites his tongue, prays, and gets an answer.

"...Hello? Who is this?"

"Ah, Yamaguchi?" Akiteru stutters.

"Er, yes. Um, who's calling?"

"Yes! Sorry, sorry. It's Tsukishima Akiteru calling. I was just wondering if you'd heard from Kei? The thing is--"

"Oh, _you_?" The voice on the other end, previously confused but pleasant enough twists, his displeasure clear. "You're his brother, right? How long did it take for you to notice?"

Akiteru goes cold. It's not the cool autumn air that chills him, nor the wind, that sends a shiver down his back. "I... I'm sorry?"

"How long did it take for you to notice he left?"

"I..." Akiteru is speechless. "I knew immediately. He told us. We were waiting for him. It's not just me," Akiteru feels his face grow hot, like he's been caught in the middle of something he'd been told not to do. "Our mother is worried as well."

"He isn't coming home tonight," Yamaguchi snaps. "Tell your mother that he's safe where he is. But he's not coming home tonight."

"Why... why not?" Akiteru feels a finger of flame lick against his spine, feels the heat in his cheeks expand, recognizes the rising wave of fury that he smothers with a forced, but polite laugh. "I'm sorry - who are you to Kei, exactly?" He pauses, sighing for effect. "Oh, wow. Just please let me speak to him. You know, I am his brother," He adds with a simper. "And I have every right to know where he is and how he's doing. He'll have to come home tonight, since--"

"He's not," Yamaguchi insists again, apparently unaware of Akiteru's growing anger. "What did I just say?"

"You disrespectful little..." Akiteru bites his tongue. "I'm... I'm not putting up with this. Let me talk to my brother," He commands, dropping the warmth he'd previously held so close.

"What makes you think you have the right?" Yamaguchi hisses. Akiteru can't reply, too surprised to say anything at all. It's a second before that feeling of surprise turns into one equal parts disgust and anger.

"Excuse me...? What about you? He's my brother, my family. I think I have the right to at least speak to him. You can't tell him it's me?"

"What, so you can bully him some more?" Akiteru can hear the sneer in his voice, and he's suddenly so sure that if Yamaguchi were in front of him now, he'd be tempted to take a swing at him. "No."

"Excuse me? Bully him? Who..." Akiteru's rage surfaces, reaches its peak. He knows he needs to bite it back, but indignation mixed with his frustration and a pounding headache leads to a limited sense of coherence, of good sense. Akiteru blurts out the first thing that he can think of. "Who the fuck do you think you are, huh? Do you get off on this, acting like some kind of knight in shining armor? Stop sticking your nose in other people's business. I'm coming to get Kei," He says.

The line is quiet, and there's the solemn, distinct sound of sniffing in the background. It is not Yamaguchi.

"I wish I could say sorry," He finally speaks, the tremble in his voice obvious. "But I'm not. He's not coming home until you leave. If you come here, I'll call the police."

Click.

 

 

Akiteru goes home without Kei and tells his mother that he's staying over at a friends, to her relief. It's not half an hour later that his overnight bag is packed and he's excusing himself as well, making his regret clear. His mother frets, but she relents and accepts his excuses, telling him to just make sure to come home and visit again. Akiteru kisses her cheek goodbye, squeezes her small frame in a hug, and leaves.

It's five miles down the road, twisted into a dark spot in a parking lot, where he breaks down.

His fists meet with the console of his car repeatedly, the cute good luck charm Kei had given him when he was younger bouncing, swaying, and finally slipping free from the hook attached to the mirror. Akiteru wants to wail, to cry and to mourn, act like he's lost his sibling, but the burn in his throat isn't regret, isn't born from the lack of love he's received.

He's just irritated.

It's irritation that makes him dig his nails into his palm, makes him run his hands through his hair again and again, gritting his teeth all the while. Helplessness, desperation, all of it swirls into one sickly sweet venom that drives Akiteru crazy.

He wishes he could punch that stupid prick in his arrogant face.

Akiteru has to wonder what Kei had told him. Was it just enough to get the point across, or was it descriptive, overflowing detail, waxed poetic in order to incite disgust, perhaps? _He's not coming home until you leave_? What kind of excuse could make an outsider act so arrogant, so confident?

Akiteru does not face the facts. He does not think rationally, in one, two, three steps of logic that sets him on a straight path. He takes the winding high road, puts on heels instead of hikers, and treks backwards in his own sort of mental maze, because he loves his brother and he fucked up, but he can't quite come to terms with it.

This is his fault. He knows as much. He just doesn't understand why.


	2. becoming nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only time will tell if I'll allow the scenery around to eat me alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, an update?! YES! I do have a plot for this story so it's still kinda going on whenever I have time. I LOVE writing Kei.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> ###  [Tumblr](http://breedhim.tumblr.com/)

Akiteru phones his brother.

He phones Kei, again and again, each time greeted with the same old voicemail. He leaves messages—the first few times he doesn’t bother, phoning him sometimes ten or twelve times in a row. He never picks up the phone, so Akiteru resorts to increasingly desperate messages— _please phone me back. We need to talk. Remember me, your brother? I just want to talk. Let’s meet up somewhere for coffee._

Ever since that night, he hasn’t heard a word from his little brother. He’d been left with a vague threat from a snot-faced nobody, some acclaimed friend of his. Akiteru pretends he doesn’t remember his name, like he’s not worth his time—but frustration is a familiar beast to him, anger always at his side. It keeps him on edge. And he can’t contact Kei to apologize or to scold him for running off—there’s no way he can leave a message like that with his mother. There is nothing for him to do.

He can only linger in town so long before he’s back off to university and the monotony of working; and while _he_ knows what’s on his mind, it seems other people realize there’s something, too. The first day back at school he’s quiet, avoiding his usual social circle, attending volleyball with a sense of obligation—and no enjoyment. He doesn’t find the usual fulfillment he would in his sport. It makes him feel bitter all over again, reminds him of the mistake he’d made so many years ago, in lying to his brother. He’d thought he’d gotten over it, but this divide—this renewal of bad energy between the two of them—has those emotions resurfacing. Self-loathing rears its ugly head like a beast in his heart.

Over time, his focus wanes. He does a little less well in his classes. He speaks out a little less. He’s brooding and it’s obvious to everyone around him, even if they have no idea _why._ It’s not until one of his close friends from his volleyball team approaches him after practice that he realizes that he hasn’t just been quiet and reclusive—he’s been acting out in ways he hadn’t even recognized.

Teruki is their captain, steadfast and stubborn. Akiteru would gauge him a respectable man, and a patient one, at that. He’s extremely good at his sport and he’s humble, to boot. They’re friends outside of volleyball and hang out on the weekends, sometimes, or whenever they can, really. They share a few classes and Akiteru has always found his presence comforting. He’s assured in himself. So, when he waves the rest of their team out and calls Akiteru over after cleanup is finished and they’re set to head out drinking, he’s perplexed to find his captain scowling, trouble written all over his usually impassive face.

“Is something up?” Akiteru asks, closing and locking the supply closet.

“That’s what I needed to ask you,” He says, shifting on his feet unsteadily. Is he uncomfortable? “The past few weeks, you’ve been… distant. Is everything alright?”

“Distant?” Akiteru picks up his shoulders, already on the defense. “What do you mean?”

Teruki heaves an exhausted sigh. “ _That._ That is what I mean. Everyone’s been on edge around you lately. Did something happen?”

Akiteru wants to fight his captain on this, to argue it—wants to say that if anything, he’s been quiet—but it’s then that he comes to the realization of what he’s been doing. He’s been pushing everyone away. His tense shoulders rise; and then he slumps, shrugging. He’s too tired to fight him on this. It must be bad if it warrants his captain coming to him in private.

“… I had a big fight with someone. I guess I’m more tense than I realized.”

“A girlfriend?” Teruki asks, perking up.

“Something like that,” Akiteru says, waving the question away. “A break up.”

“Do you feel like sharing?”

“Not particularly,” Akiteru says, awkward half-smile turning bitter, a sort of warning. Teruki raises a thin eyebrow, not about to back down.

“Whatever it is, you should sort it out. I’m not about to tell you to get your shit together, but—“

“But you want me to get my shit together,” Akiteru forces out a laugh, a grating, harsh sound. He doesn’t mean for it to sound so sarcastic, and after an awkward pause, he thinks they both understand that well enough. “Sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t bring it into practice.”

“If you get that, then that’s all I needed to hear,” Teruki says, gracing him with a rare smile. Akiteru thinks he doesn’t deserve it but he accepts it and returns it all the same. “You gonna come drinking with us? It could help you relax. Take your mind off it.”

Akiteru shakes his head, at that. “Not a good idea. I’m not exactly in the mood.”

“Gotcha. Don’t sweat it, then. Just know you’re welcome to join us, okay? And…” Teruki pauses, real hesitation making him go stiff and awkward. “… if it’s serious, you know you can talk to me, right? You can talk to any of us.”

This time, Akiteru’s smile is genuine. He appreciates the sentiment. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Yeah,” Teruki seems relieved. “How about we hang out next week? Set something up. Do something fun to get your mind off things. No drinking.”

“Sure,” Akiteru shrugs, surprised all over again. “Uh—when? I have work, but you know my schedule.”

“Friday, after your afternoon class?”

“Sounds good to me,” He shrugs.

They depart amicably, but Akiteru isn’t happy to have been confronted over his apparent attitude. He grinds his teeth with frustration all the way home, ending the night with a few dozen phone calls to Kei.

In the end, he has to settle for leaving a message.

Kei’s voicemail greets him, monotone but soft and, so so much his little brother. It’s polite but detached, the same few lines he’s heard countless times the past week or so. Akiteru digs his nails into his palm and listens as his phone creaks under his tight grip. A loud, unpleasant beep sounds, and he realizes he’s choked up.

“Hey, Kei… this is Akiteru. I’m just calling to ask you how you’re doing. You can text me—you should have my phone number. I put it down in your contacts, remember?”

Akiteru pauses, like he’s waiting for some sort of reply. Nothing answers him but the eerie, static silence.

“… I love you, okay? I just want you to know that. I want to come home. I want to apologize to your face. … even if it’s just through mom, let me know how you are. This is… this is the last time I’m going to call.”

Akiteru hangs up after that, because he doesn’t trust his voice any longer. There’s more he could say—he could insist on seeing him, could tell him how affected he’s been, could apologize again and again like he wants to, but he won’t do any of that. There’s so much he wants to say, but he can’t do it over the phone. He feels pathetic enough without begging for forgiveness over a voicemail.

He needs to stop.

In the next few days, Akiteru doesn’t call his brother at all. It’s half because he knows it’s a futility and it’s half because he’s simply obstinate in his new decision to appear detached. It only lasts so long—a week maybe—because even if he wants to play at backing off and relaxing, he can’t stop yearning for his brother’s forgiveness. In the past, this is all it would have taken. The chill of Kei’s shoulder would have had him scampering away in fear of further rejection. The here and now is different—Akiteru isn’t a coward anymore. He can’t allow the love in his heart to wane and die.

There’s only so long he can go without contact. As stubborn as he is in refraining from overthinking things, he can’t help it, sometimes. It’s the thoughts he goes to bed with, after all. It’s what keeps him up at night. There’s so much they have to talk about—has Kei told someone, has he told Yamaguchi, has he told their parents? Is he mad? Has Akiteru lost chance for forgiveness? Whatever the answer is, he can’t just let it go.

Akiteru asks their mother, instead.

If Kei won’t talk to him about how he is, then there’s this option. It feels underhanded to go through the middle man and ask her how Kei’s been doing, but Akiteru is down to the wire in terms of patience. When she excitedly goes on to tell him about how well he’s been doing in his volleyball club, proud and so absolutely in love with her youngest, it makes his chest ache. It’s hard not to ask if Kei’s mentioned him, but judging by her carefree naivete and casual speech, she has no idea what happened. It’s as reassuring as it is jarring.

His mother tells him about a match Karasuno is supposed to have soon—tells him where it is, when it is; Friday, so soon—and how to get there, all while thinking that Kei might like the surprise. Akiteru gratefully jots the information down in his calendar, smiling to himself and joking with her. If anything he’s done is sly, then this is it. But he can’t help himself anymore.

The date rolls around and Akiteru is very careful to dress himself—he wants to quietly pull Kei aside after the match, not make a scene. He picks indiscriminate but deceptive clothing; a sweater with a hood to pull over his head and a hat to shield his eyes.

Akiteru had planned to wait outside for Kei, but admittance into the gymnasium is welcome and unrestricted, so he slips inside undetected. From the stands, he can watch his brother play freely—he’s a good player and it’s obvious that the team relies on him for most their defense. Seeing him enjoying his sport without any bitterness or aversion to the work is heartening.

It just cements all Akiteru’s love for him—he wants to repair things more than ever, so he can sit down with him and talk to him about his life, so he can go home and go into their little yard and maybe toss the ball around with his brother, just be by his side, where he belongs. Being apart from him is wrong, even if he objectively understands why things are the way they are right now.

His happiness is shattered, of course, when he sees Yamaguchi.

He recognizes him because he’s called that by someone—a kid who looks like a middle schooler and not a high schooler, someone who’s cheerily patting him hard on the back and laughing alongside him on the outside of the court. He’s just as he’d looked as a child—small, insignificant, freckled and, if Akiteru didn’t know any better, shy.

Akiteru averts his gaze.

The match ends before long and Karasuno is in the win. They’re boisterous and excited where Kei is quiet and rather subdued in comparison. He’s always been the quiet one. Akiteru’s heart throbs deep inside his chest. Pained, suffering longing puts a word to the ache inside of him. He loves him so much.

His sweet little brother.

Akiteru rushes down from the stadium above and catches the team as they’re leaving the gym. He resists the urge to take his hat off and smooth his hair down, instead standing aside and waiting to find his brother. The coach glances at him when he walks past him and does a double take, and that makes Akiteru’s heart rocket away in his chest, but nothing comes of it; he keeps walking. He supposes he must look suspicious.

Kei walks past him with Yamaguchi at his side. He clears his throat, and that’s enough for his brother to look over at him—he doesn’t do a double take or gape or make some sort of unsightly noise of shock, just stares with wide eyes as Akiteru jerks his head in a signal for him to step aside to talk to him.

Kei doesn’t move. For one heart-shattering beat, he stands frozen in place like a deer in the headlights.

That stillness breaks and ripples like the smooth surface of a lake with a stone thrown in it. Akiteru holds his breath as his brother obediently steps aside to approach him, hoping his friend—and his teammates—don’t notice. But they do. Yamaguchi does, at least. He turns to ask Kei something and sees open space. He spots them.

“What’s going on?” He asks. And he’s not as shy as Akiteru once thought he was, living up to the voice he’d heard over the phone with an indignant bristle and a deep-set scowl.

“Nothing is going on, Yamaguchi,” Kei cautions, lifting his chin to look over his shoulder at his friend. To his big brother, he sounds decisively unimpressed, detached almost—Yamaguchi presses his lips in a thin line like he doesn’t want to accept that. Akiteru doesn’t catch the unspoken words between the two, deaf to their silent fight.

They’ve attracted the attention of a few other lingering team members. Their vice-captain is turned to peer at the three curiously, alongside their two managers. He’s a third year, and his eyes gleam with sharp attentiveness. Akiteru ignores them all and ushers to regain Kei’s attention.

“C’mon. Let’s go talk upstairs before you have to leave.”

Kei looks like he wants to argue it. He glances behind him at his team, faltering and unsure. Akiteru has obviously caught him off guard and it should incite sympathy, but all he really feels is a sense of distinct irritation at his indecisiveness. Kei should feel guilty for ignoring his brother—and he should follow him without a trace of hesitation.

The vice-captain approaches them. “Is something the matter, Tsukishima? Who is this?”

Akiteru opens his mouth to snarl _I’m his brother, of course,_ but Kei beats him to the punch. “My older brother.”

“Oh!” The other teen gives a start and then smiles, relief written all over his face. “Sorry, I didn’t know. Nice to meet you—I’m Sugawara,” he says, giving a polite bow.

“That’s alright,” Akiteru says, giving a half-laugh as he goes to take his sunglasses off. “You’re the vice-captain of Karasuno, right? Nice to meet you, too.”

Sugawara is generous in nodding and civil in addressing him, but his posture is still defensive. He’s stiffly refraining from any indignities, but he’s also a child—so he’s unable to disguise his discomfort cleanly. Akiteru is Kei’s brother, and that should have gotten him to drop his guard, but instead Akiteru feels like he’s being analyzed with every half second they waste lingering in polite chatter. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes just a fraction, sizing Sugawara up.

Yamaguchi’s grating voice interrupts his paranoid ring-around of thoughts. “We have to go, Tsukki.”

“We have a second,” Kei returns, not even turning to look at his friend properly this time. Akiteru feels triumph swell in his heart. “I won’t be long.”

They head upstairs alone, even though Yamaguchi looks like he wants to protest and Sugawara seems a type capable of completely understanding the tension between them all without being told a word in explanation. His and Kei’s bond wins over the fragility of friendship.

They stop just two stories up, and hang by a window in the stairwell. This is still a public space. There’s people milling about, teams stretching or teams talking, just a few steps above them. They keep their voices low.

“What do you want?” Kei asks, dropping his reserved courtesy.

“What’s with that attitude?” Akiteru comes back at him with that, disliking the furrow of Kei’s brow. His little brother tenses up in preparation of an argument, but Akiteru heaves a sigh before he can say anything. “Sorry. I just… I wanted to see you, Kei. You haven’t answered any of my phone calls for weeks.”

“I’ve been leaving my phone off.” He turns—just a bit, so he can look out of the window they’ve perched themselves by. The sun has just begun to set.

“That’s a sorry excuse,” Akiteru chuckles, but it’s strained and they both can tell. He scratches at his cheek and lets the awkward silence hang—but he can’t stand it for longer than a minute before he’s dropping his hand and his pretenses and letting his anger show, peeking out like the sun from behind the clouds. “What’s been going on? I’ve left plenty of messages.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Kei is also young, just two years short of Sugawara—but unlike him, he’s capable of hiding his tension. Used to doing so. There are chinks in his armor, though, things that only his older brother could possibly notice—and with relish, he does. Akiteru sees the slight raise of his shoulder, the tiny dig to his brow, the wrinkles by his nose, all signs of revulsion. It inflames him. After weeks without a word in either rejection or acceptance—weeks without _nothing_ when he thinks he’s worth _something,_ anything, he’s ready to fight.

“You were so busy that you couldn’t send me a text?” Akiteru narrows his eyes. “I really wish you wouldn’t have let that kid down there speak for you. We should have had a real conversation way before now.”

“Is this the time or place?” Kei’s voice is tiny, tinged with slight hints of desperation. “You’re being loud, so please stop and think a little.”

He _has_ been loud. Akiteru hadn’t noticed, but he’d raised his voice at one point. It carries in the stairwell.

“Sorry,” He says, short and blunt and without any remorse, but quieter. “I’ve been struggling to contact you. I’m just… hurt.”

“You’re hurt,” Kei repeats with stunned disbelief, lifting his chin from where he’d tucked it close to his chest. He doesn’t need to face Akiteru for him to be able to tell that he’s upset by the insinuation that Akiteru could be wounded by his avoidance.

Akiteru supposes that he might not have realized it, but Kei is also hurt. The heat of his anger wanes, and he rushes to correct himself. “And—you are too. I get that. But that doesn’t mean that you can just run away, Kei.”

“I know,” Kei snaps back in a hissed whisper. Akiteru squares his shoulders and scowls cautiously. It takes just a second of tense silence between them before it shatters like glass and Kei brokenly nods. “I _know_ that.”

“So, I’m sorry,” Akiteru continues, as if he hadn’t paused to allow Kei to get a word in. “But I’m not going to give up on you. Not again. I… made mistakes, in the past. I made a mistake in letting you go. I won’t do that again.”

Kei freezes up. Akiteru doesn’t see it.

“I’m sorry, but I had to come to you like this.  If you had given me another option—well, then I would have rather we meet under your circumstances. You chose this.”

It’s harsh, but Akiteru thinks it’s necessary. Kei says nothing, and he supposes he’s made his own point—one to combat Kei’s melodramatic one.

It doesn’t feel good at all to confront him here. It doesn’t feel good to speak in hushed whispers, like they’re in a library or a church and owe some kind of respect to the nobodies around them, when what Akiteru really wants to do is cry and hold onto him. They’re so vulnerable here like this—Akiteru hates it, hates how defensive Kei is, how wound up and upset he is. It’s too easy to read into his scowl, the way he wraps his arms around himself—like he wants to hide, or run away, or disappear. This conversation is unpleasant but it’s necessary. He doesn’t just tell Kei that this is necessary—he tells himself it, too.

Kei is right here in front of him and that’s all that really matters.

Akiteru heaves a sigh, tension seeping from his shoulders bit by bit. This is all he’s really wanted. To see Kei again. To hear his voice. Silhouetted against the dusk, he seems a beautiful thing, a statue of fragile porcelain that Akiteru aches to reach out and touch. His fingertips twitch at his sides.

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets because they’re in public and Kei is at the precipice of breaking, he’s sure, the same way Akiteru is. He swallows, throat dry, and gives himself a moment. He gives Kei a moment.

“I didn’t want this any more than you did,” He finally says, summoning up a smooth composure, control a tenuous thing. Kei made it so easy to slip out of place and break. Kei made him feel like a desperate man, driving himself to the depths of insanity, kicking and screaming all the while. “... I don’t ever want us to fight, Kei. You know that.”

“It’s not like we’re fighting. You’re the one who decided that,” Kei breathes thinly, refusing to meet his older brother’s eyes. He turns his head away, like he can feel the weight of Akiteru’s gaze on him and can’t handle it. It’s so like him to run away. “I’ll keep my phone on.”

It’s less of a victory than it should be, but it’s more than Akiteru had yesterday or the day before that—it’s hope. It’s a chance. He’s not going to mess things up with a clumsy blunder. Akiteru restrains the urge to push for more—to push for an acceptance of his apology—and just shrugs, nonchalant and easy. “You didn’t block my number, did you?”

“No,” Kei says, and he turns and there’s that smile, dryly unimpressed and so sweetly sardonic. “Why would I ever block a number that calls me twenty times in a row?”

“It was never twenty,” Akiteru argues without any heat, heart hammering in his chest. It stings. It burns so sweetly. Is this them? Is this normalcy, or is this an aversion from the _something more_ that they have to face? “You think I’m a creep that’d stoop to twenty? Who would do that?”

“The person right in front of me, maybe,” Kei teases lightly, turning from the window to step toward the staircase leading down.

“Geez, it was out of love! If I hadn’t phoned mom, then you could’ve been dead for all I knew.”

Akiteru is cringing at his own choice of words before he’s even finished getting it out, but it’s not like he can backpedal from that admission. Kei raises his eyebrows. “... I was wondering how you figured out where to find me.”

“Oops. I let it slip,” Akiteru tries out a cheeky grin, testing the waters. To his delight, Kei rolls his eyes. He follows closely behind Kei as they walk down the stairs, heart floating free and light. “Sometimes you just have to cheat. A man does what he’s gotta do.”

“I don’t really think that applies,” Kei says, looking around for his teammates as they reach the bottom of the stairs. “I think I remember a few lectures about honesty from when I was little.”

“As if you ever took that seriously,” Akiteru laughs. “I just wanted you to stop stealing the strawberry pudding from my lunch.”

The tips of Kei’s ears go red.

“Oh,” Akiteru is giddy. “You took what I said for real? Aw, you’re so—”

“Don’t say it,” Kei mutters sourly.

Akiteru laughs, trying not to trip over his own feet as he hurries alongside his little brother. He can see Karasuno packing up their bags ahead, their chatter a distant hum of ambient noise.

They turn to each other.

“Get going,” Akiteru jerks his head toward them, gesturing plainly. There’s no ill intent. There’s no lingering distaste. He smiles at his little brother’s and his team fondly. “I’ll text you later, okay? I still want to talk more, about everything… but I just want to know. Before you leave. Are we okay?”

Kei’s eyes flicker toward his team and then back, to his brother. He hesitates.

“We’re okay.”

“I love you,” Akiteru says, and he can’t help in indulging in a hug and Kei groans but doesn’t push him away, just pats his back.

“You’re embarrassing me already, so please take the hint and leave.”

Akiteru flushes and nods, glancing again toward Kei’s team. The littlest one—the one with ginger hair and that amazing jump—waves at Kei, yelling from the distance for him to hurry up before he gets left behind.

“Okay, alright. Bye. You go get caught up.”

Akiteru smiles at his little brother and pats his arm just once more and then turns on his heel and heads for the exit.

He sits in his car for a long while. The bus taking Karasuno back to their school leaves. The sky goes from orange to purple to red, burning hot, simmering lower and lower until it’s dark out.

Akiteru breathes. The evening air smells especially sweet. The lonely hymn of the cicadas is music to his ears. He indulges. He indulges in winning this. He indulges in biting his lower lip until it really does bleed, indulges in slamming his fist against the console and curling up, in the driver's seat.

He drives the three hour drive home eventually and opens his phone as soon as he’s in the doorway. There are several missed text messages, alongside one voicemail. His heart thuds wildly in his chest and he shakes until he opens the texts and sees they’re not from Kei, but his captain.

Oh, right.

He doesn't even need to check them to remember that they were supposed to go out and Akiteru just bailed on him.

He's fucked, isn't he?


End file.
